Soul of Glass
by Shelbey
Summary: Gaara is a monster, and that is all they can see in him. Do they know about the tortured soul within? Or is it something they believe never existed? [One Shot] [R&R Please]


**Title**: Soul of Glass

**Author**: Hitachiin Hikaru

**Fandom**: Naruto

**Rating**: "T" for heavy, cut-your-wrist angst

**Genre**: Angst

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any part of the Naruto, including characters, cities, towns, scenarios, titles, or anything else about it that you can think of. I just want to express my creative intent with this fic. I also do not own the song Runaway, it's owned by Linkin Park.

**Summary**: He is a bakemono, and that is all they can see in him. Do they know about the tortured soul within? Or is it something they believe never existed? One Shot R&R Please

**A/N**: This is my first attempt at angst, so please go easy on me. I've never tried writing in this style before, and I wanted to try my hand at it even though some of the angsty fics here give me the chills. I did my best, but if it can improved in any way, **PLEASE** tell me how. Thankies! Also, if there's anything wrong with the lyrics, tell me (I only used a tiny bit of the song…)

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_Graffiti decorations under a sky of dust_

_A constant wave of tension on top of broken trust_

_The lessons that you taught me  
I learned were never true_

_Now I find myself in question_

_They point the finger at me again_

_Guilty by association_

_You point the finger at me again_

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"_I believe my sister always loved you Gaara-sama."_

"_Love?"_

"_The sand automatically protects you because of love._

_I believe that the will of your mother is inside the sand._

"_It's love."_

**Yashamaru… why did you…? Why!**

So many unanswered questions, so many conundrums, so much sorrow attached to them. Deep within the torn heart of a small boy, confused emotions clashed and uncertain thoughts intermingled until they rose up painfully, let out in an ear shattering scream of anguish. Scars adorned his heart and blood covered his hands, revealing a shadowy past full of deliberate murder and hidden regret, unwanted sorrow and destroyed faith between him and the rest of humanity. One who he loved, and he thought loved him in return, always flitted across his mind, reminding him of something he now only wished he had back then, but no longer desires or requires it for himself at his current stage in life. Yet, in the end, the love between uncle and nephew had all been nothing more than a fabricated illusion that had been violently ripped apart at the seams before his very own shocked pastel eyes, leaving him alone in the world. Everything he had been taught turned out to be a well thought out, fictitious lie, and new philosophies filled his mind to the brim, none of which he could be sure were true. The laceration above his eye proved his adoption of one of the values. The Narcissus outlook on life, yet with a terrible twist: love only yourself; you are the only person you shouldn't despise in the world. His name should have been the indicator at his birth; the title given to him by his mother before she died. It was the foreshadowing of things to come; so many horrifying incidents, deaths, pain: the birth of an uncontrollable, destructive monster. A demon who loves only himself Although he knew his name, he didn't know who he himself was. He couldn't tell if he even really existed at all. How could one be sure? He constantly questioned himself; that particular problem bombarding his conscious mind constantly, almost to the point of insanity; contributing to what would later become psychological instability. How can one know if they are real? No one recognized his existence. Not his father, nor his siblings, or the village of Suna. No one at all. The man who pretended to care for the boy was long dead, killed by his own two crimson covered hands; an aggressive reaction to the man's attempt to take the possessed boy's life. The final words he spoke to the one who considered him a father were not ones of consolation, yet contradictory to the words he generally told to the young child.

_This is it… Please die_.

The village embraced his person with scorn and fear, and he found no one that could help him. No one **would** help him. No one **wanted** to; too filled with fright and hate for the unfortunate boy who happened to be the one in which the demon was placed. Because of this reaction, he realized one very self-altering thing, which he would abide by for the next six years:

_Love only yourself. And fight only for yourself. That is what Gaara is… me. I finally understand. I'm alone. I won't believe in anyone, or love anyone._

_I'm alone…_

_Yes… I am alone._


End file.
